


They Look So Pretty When They Bleed

by Phoebonica



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Cyan is a professional damn it, Gen, Gore, Orange is a creep, Purple doesn't get to do anything here except die, Torture, Whumptober 2020, mostly unedited, sorry Purple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebonica/pseuds/Phoebonica
Summary: Cyan just wants to do her job. Sabotage the ship, kill the crew, get paid. She wishes Orange wouldn't insist onplayingwith the damn humans first.Written for Whumptober 2020, day 10. The prompt is the title, because I couldn't come up with anything better.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	They Look So Pretty When They Bleed

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so. I wasn’t gonna do Whumptober this year. I was going to work on my various bingo card prompts. And then my brain latched on to a game about colourful space beans murdering each other and… this happened.

It’s not _hard_ , to kill Humans quickly.

They have one head and one brain. All the nerves leading from the brain to the rest of their body, and all the blood vessels supplying the brain, have to pass through the narrow conduit of the neck. To break those connections, you simply grip their head and give it a sharp twist. Snap. Done.

Failing that, Cyan’s second choice would be her knife. It’s messier, but just as efficient providing you remember where the vital organs on a Human are. Hit the right areas, and they’ll bleed out within seconds. Stab one hard enough in the back, and they won’t even be able to scream, only let out a quiet gasp that fades into the background hums and buzzes and clicks of machinery. You can take them out, squirm through the nearest air vent and be halfway across the ship establishing your alibi in under a minute.

…or you can do whatever Orange is doing.

Orange’s knife is buried deep in Purple’s stomach. Purple’s back is arched, and their gloved hands are clawing at the cold metal floor. Their helmet visor is shattered, and Cyan can see their eyes rolled back into their head and their mouth gaping open, attempting to scream.

They can’t scream, because Orange already cut their vocal cords. He’s not _stupid_ , which only makes this behaviour all the more frustrating. Orange twists the knife, and Purple’s body stiffens and then convulses, thick red iron-based blood welling up in their throat.

Orange watches them avidly. His true mouth is gaping open, tongue lolling out among razor-sharp teeth, slavering in delight as he savours Purple’s death throes. Behind her visor, Cyan practices a Human gesture, raising her false eyes to the ceiling and rolling them in an exaggerated half-circle.

“Are you _done_?” she asks sharply, and Orange turns to face her, grinning shamelessly, unapologetic. Purple’s eyes somehow manage to focus at the sound of her voice, and they reach out a trembling hand toward her. Cyan ignores it. “We do have the rest of the crew to take care of. Our employers aren’t paying us by the hour, you know.”

“They’re not paying us to be killjoys, either, Cyan,” Orange says, pushing the knife in deeper. Purple makes a wet gurgling noise. “They’re paying us to send a message.”

_They’d do better to send a message in actual words, first_ , Cyan thinks, but puts a lid on that thought before she can make the mistake of expressing it to Orange. It’s become obvious over the course of this job that the Humans have no idea of whose territory their little research vessels have been encroaching on, no comprehension that they’ve angered one of the most powerful players in the complex web of the galactic criminal underworld. And they’re one of those species whose curiosity overrides their self-preservation instincts, so if anything, they’re likely to send _more_ ships to find out what happened to the last ones. Cyan doesn’t allow herself to feel guilt about what she does for a living, but her frustration at the _pointlessness_ of it all is enough to make her real and false teeth grind all at once.

Still, she’s not suicidal enough to risk any of those thoughts getting back to her employers.

“And they look so _pretty_ when they bleed,” Orange continues, running the fingers of his glove across the wound in Purple’s gut and slowly licking them clean. Purple’s eyes are showing nothing but the whites now, their limbs twitching. “All that pain, all that terror, it’s goddamn _delicious_.”

“It’s exactly what any other sapient being feels when they die, Orange,” Cyan snaps, feeling a dull ache start to build behind her stolen form’s temples. Purple’s mind is fading now, _finally_ , but Cyan still can’t feel anything special about it. Purple is hurting very badly. Purple doesn’t want to die. Purple wants the pain to stop, they want their childhood caregiver, they want to go home.

“You just don’t appreciate it the way I do,” Orange complains, but maybe Cyan has talked some sense into that warped neural cluster of his, because he rips the knife out of Purple’s abdomen and slams it down into their chest, finally, mercifully, stopping their heart. “There, happy now?”

“Ecstatic.” Cyan rolls her eyes again – it’s an expressive gesture, she can see why Humans developed it – and grabs Orange by the arm, hauling him to his feet. “Come on, let’s get out of here before anyone sees us.”


End file.
